23
Nov
09

Saxifrage

I wrote a poem for you
In hopes you can understand
That verse shall  be the
Sax
I

Frage
To split your rock.
But I didn’t write a poem.
And Prima, you never danced.
You were always giving poetry
In your steps and dips
And I
pencil-dancing on a page,
Hoping to capture
The leaping mind
In words and verse.
How you make me dance inside!
How you make my fingers waltz
With your poetic body
Upon the stage of Page!

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3 Responses to “Saxifrage”


  1. 1 zdbarnett
    November 23, 2009 at 10:11 am

    I like this trend of experimentation with aesthetics. I also appreciated the significance of splitting Saxifrage with “I,” you clever devil.

    “Dancer” has appeared again, and I’m sensing this may a character with which I should become more familiar. (The repetition of “dance” in the line “Dancer, you never *danced* ” was a bit much for me, especially in such a small space in a short poem. You can get away with “dance inside,” if you must. In that vein, I liked the variation of “steps and dips” and “fingers waltz.” Synonyms!) There is an underlying narrative to this poem that interests me. You’ll have to fill me in over a drink sometime.

    I like it. And I want to know more. The narrative is forming. Keep it coming.

    • November 23, 2009 at 11:49 am

      You touched upon my problem: Editing. I don’t do nearly enough of it. I will have to work on that line. It is rather too dancey. Look for an edit soon.

      Also, narrative – rather than simple reflection – is something I am trying to improve upon. Reflections are nice ‘n all, but when a poem tells a story, that’s the jam. Thanks for pointing that out.

      About that drink. Could you envision yourself coming to Columbus within the next day or two? or possibly over the Thanksgiving weekend?
      Nate is flying in from Colorado, so if you would like to bring your mixing skills here, while we supplied the spirits, I think we could make for a grand time.

      • November 23, 2009 at 12:46 pm

        First Edit (Just so I have it):

        I wrote a poem for you
        In hopes you could understand
        That words could be the
        Sax
        I

        Frage
        To split your rock.
        But I didn’t write a poem.
        And Dancer, you never danced.
        You were always giving me poetry
        In your steps and dips
        And I
        Hoping to capture
        The dancing mind
        In words, In verse.
        How you make me dance inside!
        How you make my fingers waltz
        With your poetic body
        Upon the page of Stage!


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The reason for all this is not reasonable. The reason, strictly art, Still makes no sense to me.

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